


And Hell Followed With Them

by TheDoodyPoo



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:08:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDoodyPoo/pseuds/TheDoodyPoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Horseman of Death is led to a mysterious chest bearing his mark. What's in the chest and is this just another nefarious trap by his prankster horse best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Hell Followed With Them

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bexless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexless/gifts).



It was just a few minutes until sun down and the Horseman of Death was sitting on a sunken row boat at the bottom of a murky river pondering just how frustrating his current situation was. Not only was he stuck hiding underwater because the sunlight would destroy him, he also found himself bereft of a cranium. He found the whole debacle to be, quite frankly, unbecoming. Sure, not having a head made scaring the bejesus out of people lightyears easier than any of his masks or hoods ever did and yes it wasn’t really enough to stop someone as powerful as a harbinger of the apocalypse. Still, it was a giant heaping pile of pain in the ass. For starters, not having a mouth or it’s counterparts meant not being able to eat and enjoy all of the foods that this planet had to offer. Next to slaying all those foolish enough to cross his path, eating was his favorite thing to do. In fact, as he sat there all night he could only think of two things: how much he missed his horse and all the wonderful things he should be eating, but couldn’t. All the wondrous pizza and extravagant cake that should be sliding down his gullet was replaced with a barracuda because he thought it would look cool as a replacement face. Death could sense that the sun was almost completely behind the trees so he rose to his feet. He thought one second about swimming to the top of the lake, but then he realized that if anyone were to see him coming up out of the water that way, it just wouldn’t look badass enough. Death was all about style. At that moment he wanted to let out a big sigh. Unfortunately, this was one of the things made extremely difficult without a head. So he lifted his shoulders a bit, then slumped them down exasperatedly and began the slow walk up to the river bank. (You know, the terminator walk.) 

As he breached the surface of the water, the barracuda that was currently standing in place of his head, began to violently flail around. It was immediately apparent that his plan “awesome scary fish monster idea: was simply not going to work and he was really disappointed about it. He grabbed the large aquatic predator and threw it back into the water. It splashed as it hit the water and then began to float. He forgot about the whole “touch of death” thing. He felt a twinge of regret and did another dramatic shoulder shrug. He had kind of grown fond of that fish. Luckily, at that moment, he was finally being reunited with his bestie. Death’s pale horse, with eyes glowing cromson, was currently trotting around with delight at the sight of his headless bff. They were literally going to be best friends forever.) The Horseman of Death was actually relieved to have no head at this instant. He was indeed deeply elated to see those big red eyes again, however he wasn’t very fond of showing his emotions. The other horseman were relentless bullies and could really be mean at times. So, Death had made a habit of hiding his emotions. Being forced to express emotions was one of his pet peeves. If he had had a head at that moment he would have had an ear-to-ear grin that would have been very hard to conceal. The horse however didn’t give a rats behind about showing his emotion. He trotted in a circle, gayly swinging his hair in the wind. The horseman crossed his arms in impatience, which at this point had become the signal to take off. So, The Horse came to a halt in front of The Horseman. He mounted The Horse in a single fluid motion, grabbed his burning axe from the side saddle and raised it high in the air. As he did a bolt of lightning struck a nearby tree and it lit ablaze. As the flames roared, The Horse reared, letting out a thunderous winny and galloped into the forest. It was quite to see, or not see because you don’t have a head. Even with a head he was never able to see things like this and still he and his horse practiced their theatrics for hours and hours in hell. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was a total showman. The harbinger of Death was all about flare. “Aesthetic is key,” he always said. Well, used to say anyway. 

They strode through the forest at a gallop. The near by brush was set aflame with every stomp of The Horse’s hoof. The fire raged high into the night sky. It was quite the sight to behold. In fact it was one of Death’s favorite sights to behold, but alas, there wouldn’t be any beholding tonight. He could somehow always sense where he was going. In a way he could see everything. At the same time it simply wasn’t the same as actually being able to experience the millions of vibrant colors that could emerge and disappear with every second. So yes, he didn’t really run into walls but enjoying the full fruits of his flamboyance was also out of the question. As he was beginning to sulk over this fact, he also realized that there wasn’t much of a point to keep burning this forest if he couldn’t even enjoy it. He also remembered that he was a Horseman of the apocalypse and that he really didn’t need a reason to burn a forest down. I mean sure, he knew it wasn’t good for the environment, but if he got his way, there wouldn’t really be a planet left anyway, much less an environment. He didn’t however, think about how conspicuous a forest fire could be in the twenty first century. He burned all in his path until he came to an ominous old tree whose large roots were intertwined around a rock formation. It was almost as if the tree was growing from the rock itself. Its branches were short and dead. The Horseman had come to his destination. It was the place The Horse wanted him to go.

In between where two large roots split there was a large hole that lead into the earth. The Horseman dismounted his horse with a thud. He took his axe from The Horse’s side saddle. It’s edge glowed a burning orange red. As he approached the gnarled tree the hole began to expand. The ground quaked as the opening revealed steps going further into the darkness of the cavern. Just before he took his first step down the stairs The Horse reared once again like before, producing a cataclysmic lightning strike that set the old tree ablaze. Though the flames rose high, the tree did not burn. The Horsemaned turn to face the horse. He hadn’t been expecting the lightning and quite frankly it scared the crap out of him. The Horse was always pulling mischieveous things like this. Moving forward when the Horseman was trying to get on him. Making flowers engulf the woods instead of flames. The Horse always said “what was the point of being a magic immortal horse if you can’t have a little fun.” The Headless Horseman turned around and shook his fist vigorously. He sure as hell wasn’t going to waste a perfectly good opportunity for a good old fashioned spiteful fist shaking. He was getting tired of being the butt of all these pranks. He was also feeling uneasy about being where he was, given the fact that it was the Horse’s idea in the first place. 

Even when Death was equipped with a head, he and The Horse never did a lot of actual talking. They had a mental connection. Their minds were linked. They could just see what the other was thinking. Well they could show each other when they wanted to. The Horse would definitely turn off the mental link for the sake of a good prank. The night before however he had used it to show The Horseman this tree. He also showed him a stone chest that bore the mark of death that was currently under the tree. That’s what made Death the most suspicious. He didn’t forget things. In fact, he didn’t forget anything. He was a horsemen of the apocalypse and a certified badass. Forgetting things was just not part of that equation. So, why didn’t he remember marking a big stone chest and hiding it under a really gnarly tree. There weren’t that many logical explanations.The only thing that made sense was that this was another one of the Horse’s silly traps. He shouldn’t have gone there. He stopped taking obvious bait like that ages ago. He knew exactly what he was walking into. Any other day he would have blew it off, but the sad truth was, Death was bored out of his mind and really had nothing better to do. The apocalypse doesn’t happen in a day. When things were further along and his fellow Horseman were finally with him on Earth, then he’d get some action. Then there’d be some thing exciting to do on this stinking rock. Instead, all he could was wait. Sit there anxiously waiting for something to do and then waiting some more. Mystery chest was definitely a risk, but it was a frakkin mystery chest. It was about as good as entertainment was going to get in his position. It was at least better than getting the stank eye from fish all night

As The Horseman made his way down the old stone steps, torches on the walls of the chamber lit themselves. The orange light from the torches revealed a small dank cavern and a large stone chest in the center of the room. When The Horseman was inches away from the chest a thunder clap roared and a pale blue light strobed throughout the chamber. In the distance he could hear The Horse neighing, or maybe laughing. He placed one hand on the lid of the chest. In one swift motion he ripped the lid from the chest and threw it against a far wall. It shook some of the tree roots that were protruding from the wall and broke into several pieces. The dim torchlight was not enough to reveal the contents of the chest, not that it made much difference to our headless friend at this instance. He paused for a moment to prepare himself for whatever was about to pop out of this box or grab him or who knows what. He reached his hand into the darkness and waited a second. Nothing happened so he reached in further until his hand finally felt something. It was almost weightless. As soon as it touched his fingertips sensory memories flooded the Horseman’s brain, or well, his psyche. It was just a flash but with it he knew immediately that he was holding his favorite hat from the last time he was on Earth. It was the same hat he got when he first chose his current vessel’s outfit. Of course, when I say “got” I mean “Saw on another soldier, liked it, chopped off the soldier’s head and took the hat for himself.” For a few moments he remembered how sweet it looked because it was so big and had golden lining. The best part was the golden skull and bones he later embroidered onto the front. Like I said, he was all about flare. This nostalgia was short lived however when he remembered how useless a hat was to an immortal being without a head. As he crushed the hat in his hand and shook it in the direction of the entrance way, another loud thunder clap rung out and The Horse neighed uproariously. 

Death threw the hat to the side and reached in the chest again. This time his hand stopped upon something cold and smooth, something metal. The flash of memories returned. This time with images of roaring crowds in a stadium and blood splashing on sand. In that moment he could hear the cheering and pleads for mercy. He could feel the heat of the sun and the weight of his helmet on his now missing head. The same helmet he was currently holding in his hand. It was from one of his extended vacations on Earth. He spent time being a gladiator in the Roman Colosseum a millenia and some change ago. It was actually one of the best times of his life. He got to really get his hands dirty and have fun with slaughtering. He also got all the tools and encouragement to be eccentric with his work, which he loved. Not to mention all the love he got for it. The crowd didn’t just want to see people dying. They wanted killing with style and that was literally this Horseman’s whole deal. He was a freaking legend, a celebrity. The masses loved the gladiator in the skull faced helmet. The rush of memories was once again short lived. The sun and sand replaced with darkness, dirt, and tree roots. The deafening roar of the crowd replaced with sirens in the distance. Fire trucks to be exact.The Horseman tried to suppress the anger he was feeling by putting the helmet determinately on top of his head. He held his axe with both hands up to his chest in full Conan pose. He tried to imagine the crowd one more time, but was cut short when the helmet fell to ground and, quite cataclysmically, bounced and rolled across the small dark chamber floor. Right on cue the thunder and neighing laughter returned. 

The Horseman was furious. He knew that he should be used to these kind of things at this point. He realized that this was pretty much what he expected to happen and he shouldn’t let it get to him. That thought, however, didn’t stop him from hurling his axe at the stares and splitting the bottom step in half. He frantically reached inside of the stone chest and pulled out the first two things he grabbed. He held a Dios De Los Muertos mask in one hand and a very large pirate hat in the other. The cast them aside and pulled out two more items. His fists clenched a clown nose and a viking helmet with large black horns. He threw into the air and continued ripping things from the chest and chunking them all over. He wanted to let out a scream so badly but all he could do was hurl assorted head and face wear all over the chamber. Hats, masks, fake mustaches, helmets, earrings, headbands, a couple of eye patches, glasses, sun glasses, and a monacle were flung into the air and laid strewn about the chamber. The Horseman fell to his knees with his shoulders rising and falling exasperatedly as if he were out of breath, He of course was not. It can’t be stressed what a total drama queen he really was. Still he heaved, gradually letting his shoulders slump down as if he were out of energy. He rose to his feet and walked over to the stairs. He pulled his axe out of the first stone step and began slowly making his way out of the dark chamber. Before he reached the last step he was stricken with a flash of urgency. An urgency to turn around and reach once more into the chest. He knew who the flash was from and didn’t feel that motivated to head back. He took one more step and a bolt of lightning struck the last step right in front of him. He tightened his fist around his axe, turned around sharply and made his way to the chest in a few large strides. 

He was very much over this whole prank. He reached into the chest with both hands. He pulled the final item out quickly expecting another bad joke for him to throw aside. Instead the flash that came from it was full of warm, bright happy memories. Memories from longer ago than anything he’d pulled out of that chest so far. The flashes were the bright beautiful warmth of the flames of hell. He could hear symphony of lamentations reverberating from all sides. Also the cold air of Earth whipping past him. Their first ride on Earth. The day the Grim Reeper got his cloak as a gift from his new eternal partner in crime. He could feel the fabric in his hands. Even when the flash was over, the thick velvety feeling of fabric in Death’s hands took him back to that important day. Receiving a magical gift from a magical horse, a magical day. He thought having a cloak that made him completely invisible was the gift and it was one awesome part of it. But the real significance was sewn into the inside of the hood. The Horseman ran his fingers over the design. Just feeling it was all that was needed for him to see it plain as day. The Horse had “TH + TH” embroidered in red thread into the cloak. The initials stood for “The Horse and The Horseman.” Death always said it was a silly thing. He never really thought it was funny, but it always seemed to tickle The Horse so he left it alone. It always made him smile when he saw it or felt the thread. Even now, though it was not technically possible, he could feel himself smile. He had no idea it was also the first in a long line of jokes that only The Horse found funny. Even through all that, h still cherished this first little joke. It was important to him. No one else knew how important except The Horse. He had really only taken it off when the time came for him to bring on the apocalypse and not hide anymore. He was so happy to know it was still here and that The Horse kept it.

He stood up to go give his friend an uncharacterically affectionate embrace. He was a sap and had all but forgotten the joke that he was the butt of just moments earlier. He was just happy that the one thing he had some sentimental attachment to was finally back in his possession and unharmed. He was almost to the steps when he noticed something. He had been caught up in the visions given to him by his memories and he hadn’t been paying attention to what his fingers were really feeling. Something felt different. The embroidery no longer spelled out “TH + TH.” It now spelled out “TH + THH.” He was confused. He began to work it out in his head, uh mind. It used to say “TH” for “The Horseman.” What could the extra “H” possibly mean? Hairy Horsman? No he wasn’t hairy. He didn’t even have hair. Hell, he didn’t have a… The epiphany hit him like a ton of bricks. He hated being called The Headless Horseman. He was The Horseman of Death damnit. He was the one who takes all life. A Horseman of the apocalypse. All that jazz. Plus, it’s not like he was going to be headless forever. Wait right? He suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of rage. He wanted to let out a scream so bad. It was tearing him apart inside. He fell to his knees once more to dramatically display his anger. As he furiously shook his clenched fists in the air, the air was full with the sound of rolling thunder, sirens from fire engines, roaring flames and the maniacal laughter of an immortal magical horse with a very bad sense of humor. 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoy this. Also thanks for introducing me to another good show. Lord knows I need more TV. Happy Yuletide!


End file.
